


what i'd endure (to be with you)

by ohsoblue



Category: NoPixel
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, also some siz dealing with some ptsd, siz is kidnapped and Very Injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25755148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsoblue/pseuds/ohsoblue
Summary: After getting in an argument with Flippy and having Curtis take his side, Siz goes off on his own but ends up getting kidnapped.
Relationships: Siz Fulker/Al Saab, Siz Fulker/Curtis Swoleroid, Siz Fulker/Juan Carlos "Flippy" Hernandez
Kudos: 14





	what i'd endure (to be with you)

**Author's Note:**

> so I was feeling like I wanted to write some angst and ended up with 12? 13? pages of it. I don't think I described any of the violence too graphically, but it's alluded to and talks about his injuries a little bit, so if that's nothing something you're comfortable with, I'd just advise being safe. but there is a happy ending and some self-indulgent talk about polyamory. also this work is not beta'd, so if I made some mistakes feel free to let me know. I tried editing to the best of my abilities
> 
> you can find me over on twitter [@imightbeblue (ohsoblue) ](https://twitter.com/imightbeblue)

It starts with an argument. Siz doesn’t even remember what started it, but suddenly Flippy is driving off and Curtis is taking Flippy’s side. If that wasn’t enough to make Siz want to tear his hair out, the constant shit-talking coming from Saab and the HOA boys are certainly pushing him to the edge. So it’s no wonder that he wants a moment to himself. 

But it quickly becomes one of the worst decisions of his life, because as he stands with his hands in the air, guns in his face, he can see Flippy and Curtis standing at Legion Square, watching this happen. They watch as his hands are forced behind his back, as a hand covers his mouth, as he’s forced into the trunk. And as the trunk begins to close, one of the last things he sees is Flippy’s mouth quirked into… amusement?

Siz is not taken to a job, but _fuck_ if he doesn’t wish he had been. Instead, he is taken to the dingiest looking basement, full of rust, old blood, and the smell of urine permeating the air. Guns are waved in his face, accusations of him stealing money and plastic from the leader. But it doesn’t stop there- it never does. He is struck time and time again until the only thing Siz knows is pain.

He doesn’t know how long he’s kept down there. Time blends together and he is gifted water on five separate occasions, but no food. Never any food. If Siz had to guess, he’d say three days. Three days where his ribs make it near impossible to breathe in deeply, where his hands are covered in blood from countless attempts to escape his cuffs, where his knee throbs from a bat strike, where his head feels heavy under pressure. There’s a red puddle around him, parts of it dry, parts of it fresh.

There is nothing else for Siz to do other than think and sleep.

* * *

It is one of those fitful naps where Siz is jolted awake by the pounding of his own heart in his chest. The door is being opened, one of the men waltzing in with a hammer. The sight is sadly familiar, but it doesn’t stop him from trying to scoot back further into the corner he’s jammed himself into. Not that it stops the man’s approach, because he crowds Siz, reaching down to grab the chain between his cuffed wrists.

Getting pulled to his feet is new, though. And so is being dragged to the door. Dread starts to pool in his stomach and he swallows roughly.

Unable to walk up the stairs himself, he’s tugged up them, bruises hitting each step. The door up top is also open and so is the clearing in front of them. The man drops his chain, letting Siz’s knees buckle. He cries out when he lands on his injured one, hands bracing himself against the dirty concrete. He tries to look at his surroundings without making it too obvious.

He’s not even listening to the monologue. With no one else around, Siz can only assume this guy got cocky. It’s… kind of a relief. Siz drops his head to his chest to hide a smile. 

With a chance to escape this close, Siz bides his time and waits for the man to approach with the hammer. Bracing hurts, but he launches up as soon as he’s close. He takes the cracking hit to his hip and jabs the man in the throat, listening to him choke. With a vicious smack to the man’s nose with Siz’s forehead, the guy drops like a stone. But Siz doesn’t stop there, he picks up the hammer and brings it down with a smack. 

As he recuperates his lost breath, he places his fingers on the man’s neck, feeling a weak pulse. 

It’s so, so tempting to end him. But he doesn’t know when the others are going to come back, so he digs through the man’s pockets for his wallet, phone, and keys. One of them goes to his cuffs, something he quickly works on, and then he’s hobbling his way to the sliding doors of this… garage? Warehouse? 

He slips out of the doors and looks at the only car parked nearby. He clicks the lock on the keys in his hand and lets out a little sob when the headlights flash. He pulls his heavy body across the ground, kicking up dust. He squints in the bright sun, wrenching the driver door open. He slams it shut and starts up the car, not waiting a single second before he’s speeding off towards a dirt road. If he had to guess, he’s somewhere near Sandy Shores.

He doesn’t count the minutes it takes to get into the city. He ignores the main roads and zooms his way into Mirror Park, not stopping until the Tavern is within his sights. He slows the car down and sits in front of the building, looking around for anyone. His heart throbs, wondering if they’re on a job, but then Kleb pops outside of the bar.

They lock eyes.

As Kleb begins running to the car, Siz is struggling out of the driver’s seat, landing painfully on his side, foot still up against the seat. 

With the commotion, it’s no surprise they’re soon swarmed with other HOA members making their way outside to see what’s going on. As soon as they see it’s Siz, they’re yelling and running too.

Siz flinches when hands try to pull him up and he swings his elbow back, nearly clipping Huck. 

It’s Kraytor who yells at them to knock it off and back up.

Siz lays, staring up at the darkening sky, remembering how bright it had been when he left that godforsaken basement. He closes his eyes, feeling something wet drip down the side of his face. He blinks the water away and forces himself back up, turning to brace himself against the car.

Ant is on the phone with EMS. 

There’s a tense air of anger in the air that Siz doesn’t think is directed at him, but it does make him tense up. 

“What happened?” Stanley finally asks, getting a “dude” from Kleb and a “shut up” from Eggroll.

It’s so familiar that it puts a grin on Siz’s face, head leaning back against the car, leaving a rust-colored stain against the blue paint. 

“Nothing,” Siz mutters after a bit. “I’m fine.”

Surprisingly, it’s Julio who shouts, “No the fuck you’re not.”

Siz looks over at Julio with blurry eyesight.

“Don’t pull the tough leader shit now with us,” Julio says, hands gripping his Draco tightly. Siz hopes he doesn’t accidentally shoot any of them.

Looking around, he sees nods of agreement and rage on most of their faces, whether it’s a silent cold fury or not. Siz licks his bottom lip and spits out some red dirt next to where he sits. 

“I-”

“If you say you’re fine one more time,” Ant whispers, sniffling, “I will-!” Her head drops and her shoulders tremor. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Siz says, as though Ant hadn’t spoken. He blinks and feels lightheaded. Someone tries speaking to him, but it’s as though he’s listening from underwater. He blinks again and when his eyes open, a paramedic is tenderly placing him onto a stretcher to be brought into the ambulance.

After that, Siz draws a blank.

* * *

Siz opens his eyes to a white room and the sound of machines at work, keeping an eye on his vitals. There’s a weight attached to his hand and when he turns his head towards it, he sees Saab. There’s a furrow between his brows, eyes squeezed shut as though he’s angry even in his sleep. Siz groans, stomach grumbling a protest at a lack of food.

Saab jolts awake, hand squeezing Siz’s as his other one goes for a gun that’s hiding away in his jacket until he registers what actually woke him.

“Siz!” He shouts, shoving himself up out of his seat, hovering over him. 

Siz tries smiling at him, even when his bruises tell him to stop. And before he can say a word, Saab is throwing himself forward, hands cradling his face. Saab’s lips are soft against his, so many emotions pour into it that Siz loses track. For a moment, Siz even loses track of himself, letting Saab’s tongue dip inside, until he remembers where he is and the incredibly important fact that, oh yeah, he’s not dating Saab.

Saab pulls away after Siz tenses up, licking his red lips.

“Fuck, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Saab asks, fretting.

“No,” Siz rasps like there’s sandpaper trapped in his throat. “It’s the least painful thing that’s happened to me in three days.”

Saab hesitates, conflicted. Angry, too, but instead of asking any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, he says, “It’s been a week, Siz.”

Siz inhales slowly and lets it out in a sigh, unsure of what to say to that.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, looking down at himself. Which is when he notices the cast around his injured knee. “Has anyone been by? How long have I been out?”

“Only a day and a half,” Saab replies, taking a seat on the bed next to him. “Um, I know the HOA have been swarming like bees. The doctors kicked ‘em out a couple of hours ago.”

There’s something heavy in his chest when he asks, “Flippy? Curtis?”

Saab stares at him, truly examining Siz. It makes him feel naked. He blinks, wondering why things are getting blurry again.

“Not that I know of,” Saab finally replies, soft fingers reaching up to wipe Siz’s cheek.

 _Oh, that’s why_ , Siz thinks as another tear falls. He’s kept it together through the entirety of his time spent in the basement and now it’s all flooding out. Feeling the inexplicable urge to hide, Siz covers his face, trying to stem his sniffles.

 _Letting me hide is a kind thing for Saab to do_ , he thinks, feeling the other’s fingers comb through his dirty hair. Or is it clean now, because the nurses have bandaged the back of his head? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t even think he cares.

“Kraytor told me you said you were fine,” Saab says. “Don’t hide from your boys, Siz. They care about you. Half of them are ready to kill at your command right now. I’ve never seen them so geared up.”

"You haven't been around them much," Siz says, accepting a tissue when it's stuffed into his palm. He blows his nose into it and offers it back, but it's refused.

"Yeah, I suppose I haven't, have I?" Saab remarks though the question seems directed at himself. "Well, that's changing." 

Siz drops his hands to his lap, raising an eyebrow.

"The doctor says you're going to be in a wheelchair for a bit. She doesn't want you putting _any_ weight on that knee until you're all better. She threatened to chop it off if you didn't listen to her orders," Saab elaborates. "Which means I'm sticking around, because… well, it's obvious why."

"I'm not sure it is," Siz says, dryly. "Why? And why can’t I use some crutches instead?”

"Obviously someone has to stick around and help you, so I volunteered," Saab replies, grabbing a box of tissues, plucking another out. He offers it to Siz, who snaps it up and rubs his nose with it. “I don’t know. She seemed adamant about not walking on it at all.”

"Oh. Wait. Excuse me?" He demands, muffled into the paper. "I don't need a babysitter."

"But you do need someone," Saab says. "If not to wheel you around, then to keep you company. I'm not budging on this. I already moved my shit into your house late last night."

Siz snaps his head up at that, glaring.

"Who gave you keys to my place?"

"Your sweet, worried little sister who has given Kermy a different place to sleep," Saab replies. "And we'll need to, um, talk about... that kiss, but later, okay? When you're feeling better."

Siz stares at Saab, unable to find any words. He sighs and then nods, dropping back against the bed, energy sucked out of him. He falls asleep to Saab telling him about his day, soft fingers skimming the edges of his bruised knuckles.

* * *

Siz looks at the makeshift ramp built to his door and then back at Fred, who had thrown the hammer he’d been holding across the yard when everyone witnessed Siz flinch violently at the sight of it. 

“You built this?” Siz asks.

Fred rubs the back of his head, sheepish, and says, “Yeah. You needed to get in there somehow, right?”

“Yeah.” Siz bites back the warmth and instead reaches out to clap a hand against Fred’s elbow, the only place he can reach. “Thanks.”

As humiliated as he feels about having to be rolled up the ramp, the doctor _had_ stressed to him the importance of taking it easy, lest he takes that much longer to heal. Which Siz doesn’t want. 

There are other changes Siz notices right away. For one, someone took the time to get him furniture. A plush couch in the living room, a recliner with a footrest, and he can even see a bed in his room from where he’s wheeled towards the brand new washer and dryer. Siz twists his head around to look at Saab, who only says, “Pay me back later.”

Siz rolls his eyes but knows that he’ll somehow find a way to transfer Saab a couple thousand for all of this because nothing in here looks cheap. Not to mention that everything has been carefully spaced out for him to wheel around. 

“And you’re staying for how long?” Siz asks once he’s in the living room, eyeing up the new tv. 

“As long as you need me,” Saab answers vaguely, although it sounds more like what he didn’t add was ‘and maybe longer’. 

“Right,” Siz says, dryly. He looks at the distance between the recliner and his chair. Sensing what Siz is about to do, Saab grabs Siz’s arm, projecting his movements so he knows what’s coming.

“Do you need me to lift you?” Saab asks. 

Siz stares at Saab for a long second then asks, “ _Can_ you lift me?”

Saab stares back in affront.

“Are you implying I’m weak?” He asks, crouching down to put an arm under Siz’s knees, the other arm under Siz’s back. 

“Well the cast itself isn’t light and I’ve been stress eating-” Siz is cut off as Saab stands up, no strain visible from Saab’s end. He’s placed delicately on the recliner, with his foot propped up on a pillow. 

Siz is then reminded that he hasn’t had food in a week and closes his mouth with an audible click. Saab gives him a look but doesn’t say anything. He just points to a remote on a table near the recliner, as well as a brand new phone.

“I’m going to be around, but if you need to talk to anyone or whatever, the boys came together and got you stuff, too. That being one of the things,” Saab says, then pats Siz’s shoulder.

Siz stares at the phone and then taps at the screen, lips twitching when a picture of all the HOA appears on it. Well damn. No changing that any time soon.

“Will you be good if I head out for a bit? When I come back, I’d like to have that chat.” Saab tilts his head, motioning to the door.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Siz says. How can he not be? He doesn’t feel much of anything thanks to the painkillers and he’s in a comfortable chair. Siz bets as soon as Saab leaves, he’s going to be asleep instantly. 

And as predicted, when Saab shuts the door behind him, Siz doesn’t register some of the HOA members taking Saab’s spot in the living room because his eyes have shut and he’s drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Siz wakes up to the credits of a movie rolling and a bunch of people filtering out of his house. His stomach grumbles at the smell of soup and he turns his head blearily to look at the source of it. Sure enough, Saab is rounding the kitchen corner with a bowl in his hands. 

“You better not try to feed me,” Siz says, glaring without any venom. 

“Nope.” Saab places the soup down on his lap, putting a towel on the arm of the chair. “But we can, uh, talk about the kiss.” He clears his throat.

Siz opens his mouth, but hesitates, then sighs. He looks away, feeling embarrassment creep upon him.

“If it was the moment, I get it,” Siz says, grabbing the spoon. He drags it around his bowl, stomach full of butterflies. 

“What? No,” Saab denies, stepping up to his side. “Listen, I know I joke around plenty, but I am in love with you. You’re just so dense sometimes.”

Siz’s head snaps up and he stares at Saab, gauging his expression and seeing nothing but sincerity.

There’s an ache building. Siz leans his head back against his recliner and tries to think about how to word this.

“You know back when I was dating Zelda?” Who he hasn’t seen in months when she told him that she needed to think about things. Saab nods. “Well, she knew… That I had feelings for you, and that you were always an exception to the relationship if you ever got serious about the shit you say-”

“I was always-”

“Right, sure,” Siz drawls, but then shakes his head. “But what she offered made me realize that there’s a part of me that, um. Loves a little _too_ much.”

“What do you mean?” Saab asks.

“I mean that if I had feelings for more than one person at a time, I didn’t want to have to choose and the people I have feelings for all have different… opinions about each other,” Siz replies. Although a certain two people are on his shit list, to say the least. He takes a moment to let Saab digest that while he takes the first bite of his soup. And then promptly moans at the flavor.

“Oh my god,” Saab says, starting to pace. “Is it Flippy? Curtis? The only two people who haven’t shown up the moment it was announced that you’d been found?”

Siz is quiet for a moment. It’s hard to swallow the truth, Siz knows, but…

“What am I supposed to do when something inside me wants you all?” Siz asks. At Saab’s look and open mouth, he adds, “No innuendos.”

Saab’s mouth closes.

“I’m always here if you guys need to talk about your beef, but if I’m with someone and I want to be with someone else, I don’t want any conflict over it,” Siz replies, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And the posturing, the weird grudge-holding, all of that. I love you a lot, Saab, but I think if there’s one thing I don’t want to put up with, it’s me choosing to be with more than one of you and getting hassled over it.”

Saab continues his pacing and then he turns, a hand on the back of his neck. 

“What if none of- none of the three guys you like want an open relationship? Especially if they heard who else you wanted to date?”

“I’m hopeful, but not stupid, Saab. Not always, anyway. I’d never make any of you put up with it if you weren’t on the same page as me,” Siz says.

“That’s pretty heavy,” Saab eventually replies. “I think I’m going to need some time to process and figure things out.”

“Saab,” Siz says, looking over at him. “There’s no time limit. Think it over. I know it’s a lot to ask. But I also think that you need to stop letting Buddha dictate who you can hang out with.”

Saab looks over, offended, lips twisted down. Siz hates seeing it on him. He ducks his head, shoulders tensing subconsciously.

“I’m not saying you can’t back your boy or shouldn’t, I’m just saying he can’t always keep telling you all who you can or can’t hang out with,” Siz murmurs, then shakes his head. “Never mind, just think things over.”

Saab doesn’t stick around much after that. He wanders off into the second bedroom and the door clicks shut behind him. Siz feels… bad. 

But he’s also had his fill of wallowing in sorrow and he’s sick of it. Sick of feeling awful, sick of feeling like things were his fault. He wiggles around in his chair until he’s better adjusted, and sets the empty bowl on the table next to him. 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

* * *

Nothing about the tavern has changed a bit, aside from tables being pressed against the walls. It’s more space than he needs, but with the HOA falling over themselves to follow or help him, Siz accepts that this is just going to be how things are for now. As he rolls himself towards the door, Julio pushes it open and holds it until Siz is outside.

He sits in the sun, appreciating the warmth. It doesn’t matter that he’s wearing a hoodie, he’s been cold for quite some time now. He sinks further into his chair, not caring if he looks like he’s melted into it. A drink is pressed against his arm and Siz reaches for it, pulling it up for him to peer at. Tea? 

He sips at the beverage as a car comes zooming down the main road of Mirror Park, screeching to a halt at the sidewalk in front of him. Siz watches as Saab steps out, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head. Siz can appreciate the look. Saab’s dressed professionally today and the rolled-up sleeves are doing something to him.

Except, the look of frustration on Saab’s face ruins it all. Siz frowns, the cap of his tea bottle pressing into his cheek from where he’s holding the warmth against himself.

“Did something happen?” Siz asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that they watched?” Saab snaps. Siz doesn’t think he’s ever seen him this angry before. It makes him oddly nervous.

“What do you mean?” Siz asks, dropping his tea into his lap and folding his hands over it. 

“They fucking watched you get taken,” Saab shouts. “They didn’t lift a damn finger to save you or- or do _anything_. I’m sorry, Siz, but if they show up to visit you, I’m shooting them.”

With that, Saab brushes past them and walks into the tavern, leaving Siz outside to sit on those words. Siz swallows the lump in his throat, dipping his head to his chest. Of all things to remind him about. Julio’s hand is a heavy weight on his bowed head. 

“Is that true?” Julio’s question is soft. Siz doesn’t trust it at all, but he nods. 

“They probably thought it was for a job,” Siz says. “It happens all the time in this city. How can I blame them for that?”

Julio stays silent, fingers rustling through his hair. Siz wonders why people like touching it so much, but… he allows it. For now.

“He doesn’t know we fought before that,” Siz speaks up, head tilting back as he slumps. “I don’t even remember what started it.”

“Fred’s mentioned you were having trouble remembering some things,” Julio says. “Is that part of it or..?”

Siz shrugs. 

“It was petty and not worth an argument,” Siz replies. “That’s all I know.”

A comfortable silence takes over them.

* * *

Hours go by and Siz has had just about enough sitting there in the sun. He begins to wheel himself towards the gas station for some burgers, when Ant comes out of nowhere, doing that weird hurried walk of hers when she gets uncomfortable or nervous. Siz waits for her to approach and speak.

“Um, I think I made a mistake?” Ant says, tapping her pointer fingers together, looking anywhere but at him. 

“What?” Siz asks. 

“So… I overheard that Flippy hadn't been by and since Kermy said you simp for him, I thought maybe you’d want him to know, so I called, but I didn’t realize Saab is angry at him for some reason and now Flippy’s on his way-!”

“Ant!” Siz snaps, interrupting her rambling. He stares at her for a long hard second and then sighs. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

“Can someone stall Saab?” Siz asks, turning to Julio. “Keep him in the tavern if Flippy does decide to show up?” Siz turns back to Ant.

“I’m really sorry, Siz,” she murmurs, wilting guiltily. “He should be here any minute. He seemed upset when I said you were in a wheelchair.”

“You know what sucks the most about all this?” Siz asks. “People thinking that I can’t take care of myself.” What is it with everyone thinking he’s helpless? He’s not. Who got him out of his situation? That’s right, he did. With an injured knee and all. And thanks to the nice little gifted shotgun, Siz thinks he should be just fine.

Besides, all people did when he was ‘blind’ was fuck with him. What makes this so different? And to think he’s been waiting for people to push him down a set of stairs. Although, now that he thinks about it if anyone tries, with how Kraytor’s been acting, he might actually kill them. Nevermind.

“Is there anything I can do?” Ant asks, wringing her hands and playing with the hem of her shirt. 

“Help the others stall,” Siz replies, then wheels closer to her to grab her hand. “It’s okay, Ant. You didn’t know.”

Ant gives him a watery stare and a weak smile, but nods. With newfound determination, she marches her way across the street to the tavern and Siz rolls his way to the corner of the gas station, very visible from the main road. He hopes Flippy will see him here and not go to where Saab is, no doubt packing something heavy.

Ten minutes go by before he sees Flippy’s signature Jeep rolling by. It screeches to a halt halfway through the intersection, before reversing to stop next to him. It barely stops rolling when Curtis is launching himself out of the passenger seat, a deep regret on his face when he locks eyes with Siz. Flippy isn’t any slower than Curtis in getting out of the vehicle, rounding the side of it to get to him.

“Who did this to you?” Curtis asks, in what Siz would call a ‘near growl’. 

“Never stopped to get their names,” Siz replies, trying not to shrink into his chair. “I think Kleb’s got one of their wallets though.” The same one Siz stole when he was searching for keys to a vehicle. He never stopped to look at the ID, too frantic to get the fuck out of there to think about it.

“Well, how else are we supposed to fuck them up?” Curtis asks, eyebrows furrowed. Flippy’s face is unreadable.

“Ask them, but maybe not when Saab is here?” Siz suggests, folding his arms across his chest. 

“He trying to start something?” Flippy asks, darkly. “Implying something?”

Siz is unable to stop the heaving sigh from escaping. Of course, it would turn into a pissing contest.

“Really? That’s- that’s what you’re going to focus on?” Siz asks. Saab’s implications are more important than, uh, this? 

“Siz,” Curtis says, hand reaching out but stopping when Siz finds himself flinching back more out of instinct than anything. He stifles his guilt when Curtis looks at him, something in his eyes. “We never would have let something like this happen if we had known…”

“We thought it was for a job. We heard someone was gearing up to do the vault and assumed it was the same crew that picked you up,” Flippy says.

“I haven’t been picked up for a job, like, ever,” Siz says. “Aside from when you and then The Angels took it upon yourselves to change that. Who wants to risk me finding out who kidnapped me if they weren’t willing to finish the job after?”

Flippy winces at the last part, Curtis’s hands clenching at his sides.

What goes without saying is that Siz didn’t really mind being taken for jobs and wouldn’t care all that much, but the fact of that matter is that Siz is a well-connected guy with a lot of strings to pull and even if HOA isn’t taken seriously all the time, there’s still some weight there that Siz can rely on. Because if it’s not the HOA he can call on, it’s usually gangs like LB or any of his other friends who would be willing to step forward if he asked. Some people wouldn’t risk that unless it was for jokes.

Those guys that picked him up didn’t care about that at all. 

Of course, that’s not to say that Curtis and Flippy would know whether or not it was serious.

“If you’re sorry,” Siz begins, “then you’d understand that there’s nothing to be forgiven because it wasn’t your fault.” The city’s fucked up and that’s all there is to it.

“Siz,” Flippy murmurs, sounding devastated. Siz’s eyebrows raise. “I want to make this right. It doesn’t feel…”

“Drop it,” Siz says, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s done. There’s nothing to forgive. I just… I just want to move on from it. I’d like it if we could move beyond our argument and forget it ever happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Flippy says, but before he can continue his apology, Siz spots a speeding figure darting over to them.

“Get the fuck out of here right now,” Saab shouts, pulling a gun out of his waistband. He points it at Flippy and Curtis, motioning for them to get back into the car. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Saab,” Siz tries warning, hands clenching on his armrests. 

“Since when do we have to listen to you, huh, Saab?” Flippy steps forward, fingers twitching towards a hidden gun on his person.

“Three days since Siz has been found and you’re just _now_ visiting? I don’t buy it,” Saab snaps, finger tapping the trigger. 

“What are you trying to say?” Curtis asks voice calm, but with an edge to it. It makes shivers run down Siz’s spine.

“How are we supposed to know you didn’t set all that shit up?” Saab accuses, fierce eyes pinning Curtis in place. “Yeah, Siz, I accidentally overheard you talking to Julio. Convenient that after an argument happens, you get taken, wouldn’t you agree? King of snake gang and his right hand.”

Flippy’s pulling out his gun before Saab can finish his conversation, pointing it at Saab.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ ,” Flippy begins, but is cut off by Curtis.

“Siz is my boy,” Curtis says, “and it doesn’t matter what kind of shit we go through, I’d never lay a fucking hand on him. If I had known, they would have had to go through _me_.”

Siz’s head swings back and forth between the three of them, dizzy by the fighting. And when his eyes catch Saab’s finger getting ready to press down, Siz is leaping out the chair. He stumbles but manages to reach out, holding both of his palms against the barrels of Flippy and Saab’s guns.

“Knock it off,” Siz yells. “I don’t see any of you trying to defend me here. I see you pulling your dicks out and measuring them. Who are you trying to help? Your pride? Watching the three people I love and care about the most fighting fucking sucks.”

Siz swings around to glare at Flippy and Curtis, who both flinch back. Flippy retracted his gun as soon as he saw Siz’s palm on it. 

“You want to ‘work’ for forgiveness instead? Fine. Talk it out without using guns to solve your problems. It’s getting you two _nowhere_ ,” Siz says, pulling his hand back to himself, then turning to Saab. “You have no idea the context of our fight and have no reason to accuse either of them of pulling that shit. You need an outlet for anger? Go talk to Kleb and find the people who did this to me instead of… whatever the fuck this is.”

He snaps his other hand back and presses down on his radio, bringing it to his lips.

“Anyone not on a job?” Siz asks the HOA radio channel.

Immediately, he gets a couple of voices but picks the first.

“Daryl, can you come to the gas station? Get me the fuck out of here,” Siz requests, feeling his legs shake. Actually, he thinks his entire body might be trembling.

He glares at the trio in front of them for the entirety of the two minutes it takes for Daryl to run over to them. He allows Daryl to take his arm, gently pulling him back to the wheelchair. From there, Siz avoids their gazes and lets Daryl take him back to the tavern. He doesn’t look back.

* * *

Siz doesn’t see Saab when he gets back home for the next day or so. It’d bother him, but… the space to work things out by himself is nice and Vivi has picked up on that, only coming around to help him when he asks for it. They even pulled the ‘family’ together to watch a couple of movies, half of which Siz napped through. 

Then, his doorbell is rung and he puts down his phone, leaving it on the table. He wheels around a mess of popcorn and opens the front door, where all he can see is a floating bouquet and a pair of legs behind it. Siz stares for a long moment and then reaches out, taking it. He’s instantly hit with the strong fragrance of roses and, what are those? Carnations? 

And then he sees it’s Saab. His heart throbs as the intent look on his face.

“I won’t apologize for getting angry on your behalf,” Saab says. “But I will say I’m sorry for the way I went about it and I did as you asked. I talked to Flippy and Curtis after you left.”

Siz perks up, flowers tickling his chin when he clutches them close. Saab sees it and grins a little.

“And?” Siz asks.

“I have a surprise for you, but I need you to trust me,” Saab says, motioning over his shoulder to his car. 

“As if that’s ever in question,” Siz replies, before holding up a couple of fingers. “Let me put these in a vase or something.” If he has one. Siz doubts it. 

He’s quick about racing his way into the kitchen to find something to put the flowers in so they don’t die immediately. He’s not good at keeping plants alive as is, but it’d be a shame to outright neglect them of their basics. He finds a cup and barely manages to fit the flowers in it. Good enough.

Saab is still waiting at the door, texting someone. When he notices Siz in the doorway, he tucks his phone away and backs off, letting Siz go first. Like a true gentleman, Saab opens the passenger door to his car and helps Siz into it, ignoring his protests.

“Where are we going?” Siz wonders when Saab gets into the driver seat. 

“I can’t ruin the surprise. That’s the point,” Saab says. 

Siz huffs, but sits back and watches as the scenery changes from Mirror Park to the oil fields, and beyond. Siz doesn’t know how to feel about the secluded area Saab takes him to, but then he sees another vehicle. Saab hops out of the car when he’s parked and helps Siz out, letting him back into the wheelchair he’d shoved into his backseat.

Siz follows behind Saab with some difficulty on the gravel path, but then they stop near the Jeep that Siz recognizes as Flippy’s.

And sure enough, Flippy is there, with Curtis at his side, both of them holding matching bouquets. Flippy looks the most embarrassed by it, but they both dutifully walk forward and hand him the flowers. 

“These are not apology flowers,” Flippy says. “No, we, um. We worked through some stuff when you left.”

“You can thank Saab for that,” Curtis speaks up, a sheepish grin on his face. “You pulled our heads out of our asses.”

“It’s probably the longest we’ve talked in, what, months?” Saab says with a shrug. 

“These flowers are our intentions,” Curtis says. “Saab told us what you said to him that one night and if it weren’t obvious what you meant, the whole ‘People I love and care about the most’ kind of hit us like a brick.”

“I still have my doubts,” Flippy says. “But I wanted nothing more than to put everything behind us and if you want to try it- if they want to try it- I’m down.”

“And you don’t even have to worry about Olga,” Curtis teases, a hand sliding into his pocket casually. 

Siz makes a face at the mention of her. 

“I’m not forcing anyone into this,” Siz says after a heavy pause. 

“We know,” Flippy says. “And we’ll work things out between us, but separately. Our conflicts are our own.”

Siz doesn’t know what to say besides, “Thank you. Really.”

Feeling overcome with emotion, Siz finds himself hiding behind his hands for a second, biting back a dopey grin.

“One last thing,” Saab says, then looks at Curtis, who pulls his hand out of his pocket.

“We also talked to your boys,” Curtis says and holds out a video on his phone. “Sweet, sweet revenge, just for you.”

And sure enough, in Siz’s grasp is his tormentors, on their knees begging for mercy. They spill apologies out of bloody mouths, none of them anyone Siz recognizes. He blinks back a tear or two. Maybe three.

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore,” Flippy pipes up. 

“I love you guys so much,” Siz blurts, it all spilling out. He presses the phone to his forehead as he curls over his lap, sobbing out a relieved laugh. He hadn’t realized just how tense he was at the idea that these people were still out there until this.

“Yeah, well, I called dibs on a date with you first,” Curtis jokes, dodging an angry slap to the arm from Flippy and ignoring the “excuse me?” from Saab.

As he looks at the trio in front of them through blurry eyes, he feels a weight leave his shoulders. Things can only move on up from here, right?

Uh, now he just has to break the news to HOA.

Oh, who is he kidding? They’re all going to exchange money from bets and say, “I told you so.”

Siz snorts to himself, turning his wheelchair around and rolling himself down the gravel path. Behind him, he can hear three sets of footsteps immediately follow. With them at his back, he’s never felt safer.


End file.
